


Make Me

by Topicabo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rimming, Smut, Soft Smut Sunday, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topicabo/pseuds/Topicabo
Summary: “Just so you know, I intend to have you beg before I’m done.”
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 36
Kudos: 148
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Make Me

**Author's Note:**

> This little ditty was meant was Soft Smut Sunday (the prompt was "New"). I'm a bit late, but still wanted to put it in.

Mycroft is full of surprises.

Greg loves that about him. It’s like a punch line the world is too thick to get, him and Myc laughing all the while. People look once and assume he’s too rigid, too cold, too reserved and stuffy to be worth much more than some government social connection. 

God, if those Whitehall twats could only see this little picture – Greg on all fours, presenting for Myc like they’re at exhibition and Greg’s trying for first prize. There’s quite a big difference between unapproachable and selective. And as Greg has discovered, Mycroft is anything but shy when he finds something, or someone worth his time.

Greg can only huff a strained laugh at the thought and pays for it the next second with a sudden retaliatory bite into the meat of his arse. 

“And what precisely is so funny?”

“S-sorry. Just-“ His voice catches as something slick and warm trails over his tail bone. “Fuck, are you seriously going to-?”

The purring hum just below his bollocks makes Greg twitch. “With great pleasure. Am I really the first to do this for you? With your advantages, I should think someone would have jumped at the opportunity much sooner.”

Greg shudders, heat rising high on his face. He didn’t blush this way before Mycroft, he’s sure of it. “H-haven’t exactly had any queues forming for the chance…” 

“Well, I count myself rather fortunate in that case.” 

Greg bites hard into his bottom lip as Mycroft licks at him again, slowly, dragging a wet line along Greg’s cleft. 

“Just so you know,” Mycroft murmurs, and fucking hell, the fact Greg can feel his smug smile is a turn-on like nothing else, “I intend to have you beg before I’m done.”

“Y-yeah?” The rush of blood stampeding south is making Greg less coherent than usual. ”Think I want you to make me.” 

“Do you now?” Mycroft leisurely swirls his tongue once, right _there_. Greg’s hands clench into the bed sheets. Tremors begin trickling down his thighs. ”As if we don’t both know exactly how this will end?”

_Fucking Christ… you perfect bastard._

After a careful, measured breath, Greg’s fingers relax their grip. He lifts his chin, grinning.

He doesn’t want to just beg anymore.

He wants to be _wrecked_.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy for you.”

Mycroft chuckles against Greg’s skin. Its soft gust raises goose bumps in its path. 

“Game on, Gregory.”

**Author's Note:**

> I worry this might not have been soft enough? I really had fun with it, and I love the playfulness.
> 
> I love posting again. Lord knows I've got lots more free time for it. XD


End file.
